FateMagia
by Hono no Tora
Summary: Those Heroes who were forgotten by the World, and those who became Legends. Those that didn't exist, yet created the Universe. How could it be that this must happen? Perhaps it was simply Fate. Yes...Fate and Magic. (will eventually have an alternate ending, when finished)
1. Grief

Shirou was stopped in his tracks as he forced the doors open to the hall of the Einzbern Castle. There she lay, on her side, in the middle of the torn and singed red carpet that lined the floor's center. Her long, wavy auburn hair was gracefully sprawled around her head. No sign remained that anyone else was still alive.

"Oh no, no, no, no, no..." This couldn't be it. This couldn't happen to her. Not now…Not now, she's still so young…. Shirou snapped himself back into reality as he raced toward his daughter, praying that this wasn't the end, not for her.

He stopped when he reached her, finding all of his hopes and prayers draining from him as he saw the large stain on the carpet below her. His knees buckled, and all he could do was shake his head in disbelief. He held out his hands, trembling and clammy, to take one of her own.

"A-…Amaya," he pleaded. Something within him died as soon as he felt the chill of her skin. But he wouldn't acknowledge it…This couldn't be it. She was such a smart, strong girl. She wouldn't let this happen…It was some trick by the Grail. It had to be. Because this was impossible. Amaya wouldn't just die.

But it was real. He was holding her against his chest, his dark blue coat gaining smears of crimson.

He put a hand on her cheek, then brushed her bangs out of her face. He wouldn't believe it. She had to be alive. "Amaya...Amaya!" He cried aloud her name countless times, begged for any breath of life that might remain. He ran his fingers through her bangs and into her long locks. They had come unbraided in whatever battle had taken place, letting down the ponytail that used to hang where the braids on the sides of her head met. His hand held up her head as he stared into her lifeless face, tears beginning to blur his vision. His chest quivered as he inhaled and exhaled erratically.

He put his elbow just beneath her neck, to keep her head up, and took his hand from beneath it back to her face, his fingers entangled in auburn strands of hair as he drew them, trembling, over the features of her face.

"Amaya..." He could feel it now, that which had died within him. A rock hard lump blocked his throat as his eyes welled over, and all at once, he gave up.

He cradled his daughter even closer, and howled silently as he doubled over her, letting the tears stream down his nose. He sobbed, the breaths racking his dry throat, his cries of anguish becoming audible. They were torn from deep in his throat, as he rocked back and forth with what had once been the greatest pride of his life.

Her hair was like silk, straight and smooth until it reached its end, where it would get so wavy it completely curled in places. Sometimes, it would even seem as bright orange as his own, when it was late in the afternoon, and the setting sun would hit it with just the right colors.

Her eyes…Her bright teal eyes had unmatchable depth, and they had always reminded him of the pictures one might see of an exotic island, where the waters were crystal clear, yet still full of color, and the shifting waves would cast dances of light and shadow on the sand below.

As he continued to cradle Amaya, his mind stood completely still yet was crashing all at once. It was still absorbing all the tragedy, all the oncoming negative emotions, from rage, despair, and above all, an overwhelming grief that he would never heal from. As it did so, memories of her came flashing through his mind of her. Small things, little mannerisms, like the way she would wink back at him sometimes when they were joking, or the way she would yell at him when he would be texting and walking down the street at the same time, just as he figured her mother would.

So this was failure. Failure to keep your word. Failure to protect that which meant most to you. He swore he would always be there for her. He promised nothing would happen to her. He knew he could find a way out of this bloodshed. He had always found a way out. But this…This was failure.

And all he could do was hold her and weep.


	2. Prologue pt 1: Assassin

Amaya stared down at the red ribbon she held in her hands.

_How can I be sure Mom knew one hundred percent that this is a heroic relic?_ she wondered. The thing looked just like any other red ribbon she'd ever seen. _Whatever. If they want me to try and at least see if it'll work, then fine. Their mana wasted, not mine. _

"_I hereby purpose. Thou shalt come under my command, and thy sword shall control my fate…" _She went on with the summoning chant, casting the crimson ribbon over the Summoning Circle as she finished. The red light shone through her closed eyes even brighter than a moment ago. Whatever hero or villain was coming, they were close. Amaya really hoped she managed to get a good servant. Maybe Saber, or Lancer-hopefully one of the Knight Classes-

Her thoughts were cut off as an unexpected heather light burst to life around her. She barely managed to contain her yelp and stumbled back outside of the Circle, falling back as she did so. She looked up at last, to see a figure standing there.

The figure was surprisingly (and not in a good way) short, feminine, and…young. No older than she. And she was just thirteen. The Servant had long dark hair that extended down past her waist. As the lavender flames subsided, and the natural light of the room came back, Amaya could see that she also had piercing eyes the color of the grey-blue morning sky.

She wore an outfit that resembled a school uniform. It was composed of a white shirt, with three-quarter sleeves that came over an under layer of black sleeves, each set of sleeves were lined in lavender. A purple bow was tied just at her collar bone, and another one at the small of her back. With all of this, she wore a heather pleated skirt with an under layer of white ruffles, all over black leggings with violet diamonds running down the side of her leg until the high-heels she wore that appeared to be a part of said leggings.

Before paying heed to the situation at hand, the Servant knelt down for a moment to pick up her relic. She stood back up, staring solemnly for a long moment at the red ribbon in her hand. Then, as though practiced many times, she took the ribbon and tied it round her head, tying a bow just above her bangs and slightly to her left.

"I ask you," the girl stepping out of the Circle and toward Amaya. "Are you my Master?" Her voice was youthful, just like the rest of her.

"Y-Yes, and are you my Servant?" Stammered Amaya. The answer was obvious, but Mom said it was tradition (very new one) to ask.

"Yes. I am Servant Assassin, at your service."


	3. Prologue pt 2: Archer

**Dear user whose name I forget…You're about to see why she isn't in the Archer Class. And by the way, I've only seen Fate/Stay Night, Unlimited Blade Works, and Fate/Zero, so there's lots of plot stuff that surrounding technicalities and stuff concerning the Grail and some characters, and probably the "Root" that will be left out or incorrect due to my currently blissful ignorance. Enjoy! Review booooox, pleeeeaaase?**

Amaya and Assassin sat in the back of Amaya's mom's car.

"Now Amaya, we're only going to stay long enough to see the summoning of the other Servant and decide weather or not we want to ally ourselves with the Matou, okay? I don't want you to run off with Hana, and you two start sharing your Servants or any of that, alright?" Tohsaka Rin gave the lecture to her daughter.

Amaya was slightly aghast that her mother would think she would do something so childish and stupid. "Mom, I'm pretty sure you know I wouldn't do that," she put out.

Rin sighed. "I know…but this is the first Grail War I've been this involved in for twenty years. I had to skip the last one. I just want every thing to go right, ya know?" Her teal eyes were bright as a street light passed over them when they drove by.

"Yeah, Mom. I get ya." A long moment of silence passed. Amaya looked to her left where sat her Servant Assassin. Both her and her mom were disappointed to have summoned such a stereotypically lame class. When her mom had last been in the Grail War, she had gotten Archer, who was at least one of the Knight Classes.

The girl's expression remained steely and distant as they drove, making Amaya somewhat uncomfortable sitting with her.

"So…What would be the name of your Heroic Spirit, Assassin?" she asked, relieved to have broken the silence.

Assassin looked at her, her expression coming somewhat closer to the present. She smirked ever so slightly. "Hmh."

"What?" Amaya asked, taken slightly aback by the Servant's seemingly…was it arrogant…air. No, not arrogance. Simply that she knew more than her Master and that Amaya's own ignorance was amusing.

"You would not know me, neither would anyone else, so I suppose it can't hurt to tell." She leaned forward in her seat to be able to comb her fingers nearly the whole length of her hair. As she did so, another streetlight caught in her hazy eyes, making her irises look like early morning mist. Her pupils, to sharp contrast, looked as though she'd glimpsed the entire universe before. "I am Akemi Homura."

"Amaya-chan!" cried out her cousin, Hana, as they pulled up to the Matou mansion. Amaya got out of the car just in time to meet Hana's embrace. It had been months since they had seen each other, what with all of the prepping for the seventh Grail War.

When all of the family greetings were done with, Amaya motioned for Assassin to get out of the car herself. After introducing the family to Assassin and vice-versa, they all went inside, and into the basement where it would be decided whether or not the War would kick off with fighting cousins.

"So what artifact did you guys manage to get?" Amaya asked, eager to know who might be summoned.

"Oh, uh…" Hana paused, and scratched her head. "Nobody told me or showed me, and they won't answer if we ask, sooooo…"

Amaya stared for a moment. "Well that's just lovely."

Amaya and her mother, along with Assassin and Aunt Sakura watched, all on edge (save for Assassin, who remained distant).

"_I hereby purpose. Thou shalt come under my command, and thou sword shall control my fate…"_ Hana continued the chant until finished.

And then, as if to add to the suspense, a rozen flame burst to life around the Summoning Circle, uncannily like the flame that blazed at Assassin's summoning. Hana took up much the same reaction Amaya had, and stumbled backwards towards her cousin where they huddled together.

At this, Assassin's eyes widened, and her mouth grew slightly agape. There was no mistaking that fire. That magical fire…so sweet and warm…only one possibility.

The figure that appeared from the Circle was at first incredible. Grand flowing masses of rosy hair extended from the their head, where a pair of white bows upheld twin tails. A long, white dress, with the underside of the billowing skirt blacked out and seemingly covered in the pictures from the Hubble telescope, seemed to glow on the figure, revealing that it was a she, and was, like Assassin, a youth. A pair of light pink thigh-high boots covered her legs.

Everyone stood, their mouths wide open, at the beautiful sight they beheld. They were unaware of it, but the image would stay with them forever.

But suddenly, the long hair and the white dress began to evaporate in a shower of glittering particles, shimmering in the rose colored flames, still burning strong. The lost adornments of the figure were soon replaced with grand flash, accompanied by a _poof_ sound. As they all turned to face the girl after having been halfway blinded by the light, the fire was already dying down.

In the middle of the Summoning Circle, a teenage girl, about the age of Assassin, stood there, looking at everyone with a warm, welcoming face.

Her hair was pulled up into the twin tails, held up now by thinner red ribbons instead of the white bows. Her grand dress had been replaced by a dress that resembled a maid outfit. The center down her sternum was a light yellow, buttoned up the middle and outlined in ruffles. The rest of the top layer of the dress was a pretty pink, and it came down over her skirt in a flower-like pattern, along with a pair of red bows rested on either side of her hips where the skirt began. And her puffy sleeves and ruffly under layer of skirt were white.

Every body was still in awe (though, more shock at this point). Everyone but Assassin, whose eyes had unexpectedly welled with tears as she covered her mouth with her hands, barely able to contain her emotions.

The Servant layed her rose eyes on little Hana. "I ask you," she said, her voice light and sweet. "Are you my Master?"

Hana took a little while to respond. "Uuuuhh…Yes," it was more of a question than an answer.

The Servant smiled a very kind smile. "Then I am your Servant." She turned her attention to the rest of the crowd. "I am Servant Archer, pleased to meet you all!"

But before anyone else could respond, Assassin let it all out and bounded over to Archer with an embrace, tears of joy and other mixed emotions running down her cheeks.

"M-Madokaaaa," she managed after a moment.

"Ho-…Homura-chan?" Archer's face brightened from it's surprised state as she returned the hug.


	4. CHIBI-MAGICA 1: Let's Find Lancer!

**WELCOME TO- **

**CHIBI-MAGICA!**

Hana-chan ran up to Amaya-chan. "Amayaa-chaaaan~!"

"Nani?" ("what?") she managed to ask before being attacked with the hugs of her cousin, accompanied by many sobs.

"Amayaaaa~!" Hana sniffled for a moment. "Author-sama doesn't know who lancer is going to be! She's tried searching 'famous spear-using heroes' on Google several times, but nothing of use ever pops up! And she herself isn't very familiar with lots of heroic legends, let alone ones that would qualify the main hero to be in the lancer class!" TT-TT

Silence enveloped the room for a moment as this devastating statement was allowed to sink in.

"Hhmm…This is really bad…What are we to do, Hana-chan?"

Fortunately for everyone, this is when Archa-chan and Assashin-chan decide to materialize and help everyone out (^u^).

"There can only be one solution to this…" Assashin-chan began.

"Hai, Homu-chan! And for that, we'll need all the help we can get from our followers and viewers if they want our story to go on."

Everyone looked at the audience. "So please, everyone! If you know of any possible reliable research websites, then post their links in the review box if you can. And if that won't work, just give us the name of the website. You can also use the review box to tell us of any heroes (or villains, even) that you've heard about for yourself!"

"Wait, Madoka-chan!" Assashin-chan began. "You forgot to tell the readers that Author-sama wishes for this lancer to be entirely original."

"Huh?" asked Archa-chan.

Assashin-chan elaborated. "She wants Lancer in Fate/Magia to be a lancer that has not been previously used in any of the Fate franchise. It also cannot be another particular Puella Magi that everyone loves, for certain reasons that will be revealed later in the story."

Archa-chan looked awfully sad upon hearing this. "S-so…So we can't have Diarmuid as Lancer again?" (everyone else at this point is also heartbroken)

"Unfortunately not, Madoka-chan. I know, I was hoping he could be Lancer, too…Of course, that doesn't mean we won't see any of him from Author-sama. For all we know, there could be another romance and action filled fan fiction she could be brewing in her head at this very moment," Assashin-chan said, optimistically.

Amaya-chan and Hana-chan (right after having wiped their eyes from the disappointment that had ensued at the news that there would be a lack of Diarmuid in this fan fiction) ran up to the camera to get a shot that warranted all attention be paid to them.

"Yes, please! Author-sama just might give us up if she can't find a good Lancer! And then she would have written the first two chapters of this story for nothing!" cried Hana-chan.

"And what would that make us? A WASTE OF TIME AND EFFORT. So let's take Archa-chan's and Assashin-chan's advice to heart, and get some research done!"

**ARIGATOGOZAIMASHITA!**


	5. Prologue pt 3:S,R,C

**The next few Servant summonings will be condensed, sooo…Here we go! Saber, Rider, and Caster! By the way, this may involve some vague Fate/Strange Fake stuff. Even though I haven't read it, and probably won't (at least any time soon), the story requires it's concept some. Sorry if the stuff I write is ignorant of how the actual story goes; I'm just not that deep in the franchise. Also, these aren't supposed to be in any particular order**

SABER

Emily stood in her hotel room, staring down at the book she held in her hand. She read and re-read the ancient words on the page, even unwittingly memorizing them. On her nearby bed there sat the relic she had managed to stow away a year or two ago from Snowfeild. She heard that this particular object could summon a particularly powerful servant, though she never heard exactly who. Nor did she ever hear how the American Grail War imitation turned out. She figured it didn't go the way it was supposed to.

_Way to go, America. Let's just screw everybody else's ideas up because we're a bunch of jealous blondes who can't think up of awesome stuff by ourselves,_ she thought to herself.

Finally, after having stored the page of the book away in her mind, she uttered the words with her hand extended over her make-shift summoning circle (the classic summoning circle, accept drawn on an enormous sheet of paper. She couldn't just write magical symbols all over the hotel's floor, now could she?)

The lights in the room dimmed, and the lines on the paper began to glow spectrum blue as she chanted the sentences that just might change her life. Gusts of wind blew her straight mousy hair around, the ends of it flicking her in the face. This all better have been worth it…

Everything seemed to evaporate in white light. She shut her eyes to keep from being blinded. When she opened them again, she couldn't help but gasp a bit. Yeah, she had been expecting a hero of some sort. She would have expected a Mediterranean dude in a toga with an enormous beard, or some European knight in silver armor. Nope. Neither. Before her stood a man, and yes, he seemed caucation and was in armor, she had never thought to expect something so…_extravagant._

There he stood, a tall man in enormous armor seemingly made from the most lustrous of gold in the world. Atop his narrow face his rich blonde hair was spiked up in a way that shouldn't have worked, but it did.

The foremost thing about the Heroic Spirit's appearance was the gigantic shoulder pads that looked like they were more for show than for function, though they probably did their job wonderfully. From beneath the armor covering his hips hung a royal crimson cloth that came nearly to the ground in both the front and back. His knee pads were more like knee spikes, same going for the armor on his feet and ankles. The body armor on his torso (you can't really call this a breastplate; it's simply too big) and a nearly functionless piece of armor hanging before the cloth between his legs were inscribed with royal blue runes of some sort that Emily couldn't even begin to try to decipher.

All this fancy stuff to such a degree definitely wasn't what she had expected.

"I ask you," the man began, his thin chin held high, his eyes glaring down at her. "Are you my master?"

After taking a split second to get over her gaping, and the fact that she was being stared at like an unwanted wet dog, she cleared her throat and responded "Yes. I am your master"

The Servant sighed, seemingly disappointed that he even had to show up for whatever this non-sense was. He took a moment to observe the fact that he was, indeed, standing on a big sheet of paper. At this, he cocked an eyebrow distastefully. Finally, he looked back to his new Master. "I am Saber."

Emily noted that he didn't even bother to call himself _Servant_ Saber.

A long quiet passed as Saber took in his new surroundings. Emily found it quite uncomfortable, so she was glad to break it with clearing her throat. "Well!… Uh, I did go ahead and get you some modern clothes, 'cause, you know…I kinda figured you'd be all ancient and stuff…So yeah, they're over there in that chair." She gestured to the corner of the room that it was stationed. The look on his face was unsettling for her; again he was staring down at her from above. Simply the way he looked at her seemed to make him radiate an air of arrogance. Something seemed off about this look…something about his eyes. Then it hit her. His irises were as red as wine, giving him an unusually piercing gaze.

At last he simply shrugged, a jumbo gesture considering his armor, and strode over to the chair where a very simple white t-shirt, a leather jacket, and a pair of skinny jeans lay folded on the chair.

RIDER

Alex was panting as he opened the door to his father's office, trying not to drop the long box he held in his arms. "Dad! Dad, guess what! You'll never guess what I managed to get my hands on!"

His father barely glanced up from the book he was deeply enthralled in. "Is it a girl?"

Alex's face flushed. "Wha-no!" A pause. "Though sometimes I wish..."

His father chuckled a good-natured laugh. "Then I can't possibly imagine what it is. Please do tell."

He layed out the box he had clung to so tightly on his father's desk, and handed his father the letter with a crimson wax seal imprinted with _LCT Mage's Association_. Before he put down his book, titled "King of Conquerors ", he said "Oh, now look there. They got that bit wrong, about Bucephelus's breed. Of course, I suppose that comes with thinking Iskander was your average sized guy..." Then he broke the seal, pulling out the piece of paper, and began reading aloud the hand written words.

_Dear Velvet El-Melloi Archibald Family,_

_The London Clock Tower Mage's Association is very pleased to inform you that you are eligible to summon a Servant and play the roll of said Servant's Master for the Seventh Holy Grail War.-_

"Well I couldn't tell, thank you," interrupted Alex, flashing the crimson markings on his hand. None the less, the excitement was building inside him, and he could see his dad's face lighting up by the second. _In case you yourselves are unable to obtain a Heroic Relic, we have sent to you an object, whose owner should make an exceptional servant…_ "Yeah right, watch them send us Caster or something lame. I bet the Einzberns just want me involved again so they can wave the Grail in my face, after Tohsaka and I worked so hard to destroy the thing. Well Guess what!? I'm going to laugh when you get royally screwed!" He continued to shew on the cigar he had in his mouth, making his words sound funny and muffled.

There was much more to the letter, explaining rules to the war and such, in of which Waver was already quite familiar. They both looked toward the long box anxiously. Alex looked at his dad. "You open it!"

Waver nearly did, but something stopped him. "Wait…No, it's to be your servant, Alex. You should open it."

"But-"

"Go on! Do it!"

Alex rubbed his hands, and went to unlock the box's hinges. As he lifted the lid, he noted that his father was staring at the box from over his shoulder.

In the box there lie a cane. A little less than a meter long, it looked as though it was used as a cane to help someone with walking problems, especially considering the wear on it's ground end. It was ornately decorated, in a very clean-cut, symmetrical, ancient way.

"It looks Egyptian," Waver put in. "I do think I recall skimming over something in the letter about this coming from that museum's Egyptology department in Alexandria."

They took in the looks of the object. "Well," Alex began. "No need to wait! I want to know who this belongs to!"

"As do I," his father agreed.

The room went dark as the summoning circle shone a sandy gold, just before the white light made them both look away. Upon looking back they saw a tan skinned man- a young man- with bands of gold encircling both biceps and both forearms, along with a golden breastplate in the shape of a pair of wings, their tips joining just at the base of the back of his neck. He was tall, his long legs making him so, but he wasn't very large muscled. This made Waver look over this Servant somewhat skeptically.

The tawny light of the summoning circle began to fade, and with the study's normal light returning, the man's face was now fully visible. He was young indeed; no more than Alex's age or so. He wore an Egyptian Pharaoh's crown, the type they wore in Lower Egypt, the kind with the light blue stripes, the two broad strips partially covering the shoulders, and all bound together in the back with a decorated cylinder. On his chin was one of those old Egyptian fake beards, the end of it trimmed in gold.

Before even asking the question that would bond he and Alex as Servant and Master, he walked over to the table where lay his cane. Alex couldn't help but notice the slight limp in the Servant's stride. He picked it up from the velvet lining of the box, and held it in his hands, staring at it. Finally, he turned, taking the curved handle of the stick in one hand and pointing the ground end of it at Alex.

"I ask you," He looked at the father and son with dark brown eyes. "Are thou my Master?"

Alex responded confidently. "Yes, I am your Master!"

"Good!" Servant Rider exclaimed. "Good, good, that. I'm Rider."

Waver suddenly broke out into laughter. Rider stared at him, confused, and a grin broke out onto Alex's face, knowing exactly why his father was so amused.

"I swear, Fate itself has a sense of humor," he said, finally able to stop laughing. Then he looked to Alex and said, "Of course you would get Rider." Alex grinned even more.

Rider looked around, absorbing his surroundings. There were an awful lot of books, in several different languages, upon which he commented, "Wow. You sure do get around without ever having to leave this room, now don't you?"

Skeptical Waver took up the question, answering, "Yes to the first and no to the second. I hardly ever read these. I do travel a lot, though."

Rider asked several other questions about what they were like and what they did on an average basis, (which was revealed to almost never be average) before Alex spoke up.

"So, who _exactly_ are you, Rider?"

Rider looked up, breaking his gaze from the spines of the _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy Collector's Edition that Waver had gotten at an auction in London. "Need you even ask?" He stood, rising to his full height. "I am Pharaoh Tutankhamun, King of Egypt, greatest Empire on Earth!" As he said this, he cast his free hand out to the distance, emphasizing his statement.

"Oooh. That makes sense now." Waver was now much less skeptical.

CASTER

As Phillip stared at the painting, he could simply feel it radiating potential. He wasn't sure for what, it just held a world of possibility. This was the feeling that had driven him to stealing the artwork. He could only gaze at the canvas for a long while, taking in the mastered placement of the ancient oils upon its surface.

The hues of blue melded perfectly with the stars and moon seemingly made of pure gold. The lighter blue swirls gave the impression of a windy night over the small town, next to a mountain of dark spires. In it's thick, small-ish brush strokes, it maintained an elegance and beauty that could not be matched by anyone, in his own opinion.

He flipped through the age-old leather-backed book he held in his hands. He happened to land on a chapter labeled "the Holy Grail War". This seemed interesting enough to read. Through the chapter he read, the concept getting more and more interesting by the sentence. On he read until he came upon a section labeled "Servant Summoning" where a picture of a unique pentagram was drawn in great detail.

"Hm…" This…this was amazing. Phillip could resurrect the greatest artist of all time. For him to live again…Oh what a grand scheme!

And so he grabbed a piece of dry pastel, a deep blue, and very carefully traced out the circle on the concrete floor of his studio.

As he sang out the chant written in calligraphy in the book, the circle began to glow and to shine in the most beautiful song of color he had ever seen. And before all turned to light, the last thing he glimpsed was the painting of a starry night, barely making out the small signature in one of the bottom corners that, when read up close, said _van Gogh_.

There then stood a figure. A beautiful figure. Her long, orange, wavy hair was in a thick, loose braid, with a lonely sunflower at it's base. The bright green eyes pierced the darkness of the room. Her dress was a fitted, button-up black corset, with gold swirling stitches running up all over it in a flowing fashion. And a beautiful deep blue skirt, also with golden swirl stitching, was split down the middle front with ruffles that started at the top in horizon sky blue, fading to dark teal towards the bottom. At the bottom of the corsett in the back, a light blue rose made too of ruffles, lined in gold, was the head of a cascade of waving fabric that made a sun-tinged waterfall down the back of her sleeves were fitted well to her arms until the wrists, where they flared out, edged in lace ruffles, just like the collar of the dress that came up almost to her chin.

He could only gape in awe as the masterpiece in front of him asked, "Are you my Master?"

"Y-yes, I am. Is it true? Are you…Are you him? Are you Vincent?"

She didn't respond for a moment. After having asked the question, she had looked to her hands, and felt her face and rubbed her arms…She was alive. She was _alive!_ How could this be? What did it matter? _I may never know,_ she thought to herself. She was suddenly brought back to the world by a man's voice. "Pardon?" she asked.

"Are you Vincent van Gogh, the one and only?" His eyes…his blue eyes shone brightly, so full of joy and glee, like the stars she saw in her dreams, yet could never capture with paint. Those eyes…

"Is that what they call me?" was all she could say.

"It's what I call him," he stated. Her voice was divine, seemingly coming from the depths of the cool night.

She chuckled a little. "If that is what they call me, then yes."

**Liiiiike? Yay or nay to Servant choices? I like them. Otherwise they wouldn't be here. And yes, Caster is a gender swap. Just had to have one :3 Reveeeeeeeiiw booooox (*u*)**


	6. Prologue pt 4:B,L

**Alrighty then! Now we've got the real Game Changers coming up here: Berserker and Lancer! **

BERSERKER

Furgen Langard looked closely at the pistol lying in the box. Had the most evil man in the world truly held this in his hands in his last moments? If so, he wasn't sure he wanted to touch the thing. God, was all of this really necessary? What the heck sort of good abilities and Noble Phantasms would this guy even have anyways? He was a _politician_, for God's sake.

"Just summon the damn Servant, ya little prick," Growled his uncle. Furgen really hated that man.

"If you're so desperate to be in this stupid pointlessness-" he was cut off by the back of his uncle's hand.

"It's neither 'stupid' nor 'pointless'. If anything around here is either, it's you," every word was a hushed roar to Furgen. Despite all of his mistreatment, he savored every moment of rebellion against the old man. "So is it true you stole this from England's M16 headquarters?"

Another strike. Blood began to drip from his nose. "So what if I did," he muttered. "Just do it!"

"Fine, I will!"

"_I hereby propose. Thou shalt come under my command, and thy sword shall control my fate…" _He continued on. As he finished, he nearly jumped when electricity suddenly sparked to life around the summoning circle. Out of nowhere, a bolt of energy struck the circle, filling the entire room with scolding air and a bright white light tinged in crimson.

When they looked back, an enormous figure stood in the circle's center. A black military officer's jacket, adorned with several metals, was placed over his muscled shoulders, the sleeves free and being battered about in the gusts of air that whipped around the entire room. The left sleeve was banded around the bicep with a broad red strap, white and black also visible on it. His large arms were crossed over a tight ebony tank top, with crimson lines highlighting his musculature (which was quite impressive). A pair of black army pants with shinny combat boots covered his legs. His head was adorned with yet another military officer's apparel; a black hat, donning a golden eagle, a red band encircling it just below that, and a shinny black rim hiding the man's eyes, his face down turned. However, the lower half of his face was visible, including that historically unmistakable mustache.

"I ask you," the Servant's voice was loud, commanding all attention be turned to him. "Are you my Master?" He finally looked up, revealing his eyes to be strikingly pale blue.

What had he done? He had just resurrected the most notorious liar and political brute in modern history. It was his orders that were responsible for over eleven million deaths of innocent people, simply for beliefs and ethnicity.

_God save us all,_ he thought.

"Y-…Yes, I am your Master," the false confidence in his voice wavered.

At this, the Servant smirked. "Very well. I am Servant Berserker." Something was not right, though. The boy's face…the blood still flowed from his nose. His amused grin soon faded from his face, stolen away by his usual irritable frown.

Furgen's uncle stepped forward, and grabbed his wrist. "Alright, boy," he began. "Hand them over. We don't want this to get ugly in front of the Fuehrer, now do we?" Furgen could tell that his uncle, too, had to put a lot of effort into sounding calm.

Berserker looked on with a growing distaste for the situation already.

"You certainly aren't suited for this kind of thing," the man made an attempt of seeming to be a kind, reasonable person before Berserker.

Before anything could happen, Berserker spoke. "Nein," he barked. "It is you who is not suited for this War. The Grail chose this boy, not you. You have absolutely no right to those Seals."

Furgen's uncle stared at Berserker as if he'd just spouted the most profane of insults at him. "Begging your pardon, _sir, _but who exactly is the Servant here?"

"YOU are NOT my Maser, thus have no authority over me. Do not speak to me as though I were a lowly dog." His irritable frown had turned into a steep scowl, and several of his words were exclaimed with an enormous wag of his index finger.

The man wanted to say _"Well you certainly bark like one."_ However, common sense and the small amount of better judgment that he possessed told him otherwise. He looked away from Berserker and let go of his nephew's wrist. "Forgive me, Fuehrer…"

"You are forgiven." He then strode over to Furgen, who was now sitting on a chair, and knelt in front of him. He carefully studied the boy's face, trying to look past the poorly hidden fear. He had his suspicions, and as he reached up to wipe the boy's face of the blood, the boy flinched. "Why are you afraid, boy?" His voice was nowhere near what it had been a few moments before; instead of the infamous shouting and yapping, it was as low and soft as it could get, though still raspy to a degree.

No response came from the blonde boy. All Furgen could do was try to hold back the sob of fear that gathered in his throat, and blink away the tears. But it was futile. He covered his mouth and looked past the Servant kneeling in front of him through blurry eyes.

That was enough. His suspicions were confirmed. Berserker shot to his Master's relative the most deathly of glares he could give, and the man immediately staggered back. He tripped over his own feet as Berserker stood and stepped towards him.

"P-pleeaase, Fuehrer!" He sat up from his current position, flat on his butt, and bowed as low as possible, pleading before Berserker. "Please, all I want is to serve you and your Maste-"

Berserker's beefy hand was already on his throat before he could finish, his feet dangling at least three feet in the air.

"No," He said. "You simply wish for the Grail. A roach like you could never be worthy of such an object." His death grip tightened as he took the pistol-his pistol- from the nearby table, and put the barrel right against the center of the man's forehead.

Furgen never once turned around the entire time, and his hand had not left his mouth. When the shot fired, he jumped, and let the tears finally fall from his eyes.

Berserker let the body crumple to the floor and put the pistol in the holster of his belt, heading for the door, then turned. "Are you coming, boy?"

Furgen slowly got up, and went to follow Berserker. He felt as though he were the one dead now, no more than a hollow corpse, moving about upon the will of a Servant's wishes.

"Hey, boy," he began. "I may be hated by my fellow man nowadays, but rest assured. I am your Servant, so serve you I shall. You need not fear me." With that, he held out his hand.

LANCER

Ilosveil gazed out the large window, not staring at any one thing in particular. She caught glimpses of cardinals flitting about, their bright red feathers sharply contrasting the brilliant snow that blanketed the estate. A sudden pang of anxiety hit her as she spotted a silver car pulling up in front of the gothic style Einzbern castle.

"My lady," came a maid's voice from her doorway, several moments later. "The relic has arrived."

She thanked the maid, and turned to the floor-length mirror to make sure she looked presentable. She seemed to be missing something… _Ah,_ she realized. _The crown. _she opened her wardrobe and found the shinning, silver crown, lined and decorated in gold, sitting patiently on the velvet pillow where she had last left the thing. At its center, a single ruby was placed in the gap of a golden up-turned crescent. Connecting the crescent to the bottom gold lining was a double-helix, and sprouting from it there were an elegant pair of stylized wings.

Donning it on her head, she strode out of her room and down the stairs to the entrance of the Einzbern house, a grand, moonlit hall, where the man who she considered to be her father, Jubstacheit, stood before the small group of archeologists that were their current guests.

Their leader had been speaking with Jubstacheit just before they saw her, in which in that moment, all of their jaws dropped to the floor. As if Jubstacheit wasn't strange enough for their eyes to bear, the sight of a fair woman with nearly floor-length silver hair, in a white, gold-embroidered dress, and a long, royal red, gold-lined sash layed evenly over her shoulders must have nearly sent them into shock.

Ilosveil wondered for a moment if they had ever layed their eyes on a Magus.

Even if so, an Einzbern homunculus were still stunning to look upon.

After having gave the scientists their pay, and after having received many looks of awe, Jubstacheit received the large wooden crate that held their Heroic relic within it, and placed it on an alter at the head of the hall. There, a summoning circle had already been layed out for the Grail War.

Ilo stood next to her father as he lifted the lid from the crate. Inside, there sat a shattered and dented shield, the pattern of a boar visible on the bronze surface.

"So, this is the shield of the great Diomedes," Jubstacheit stated. "Said to have wounded two gods in a single day on the battlefield, including the god of War, Ares himself. His spear was guided by Athena, who promised to help him defeat any immortals if he wished, and in Troy, he eliminated much of the enemy force within the city. In strength, he was second only in his time to Achilles. And with a divine Noble Phantasm, I'd say we may actually have a fair chance of winning this War." He sighed.

"You sound as though you begin to doubt yourself," Ilo put out. She knew it probably only hurt him to hear it, but it was true, none the less.

Again, he let out a long breath through his nose. "No, it is not that, simply that…Seven Holy Grail Wars, and not one has been successful, else we would not still be fighting. I started my this role of mine at the beginning of the Second Grail War, and I've seen every one since. There are times, like now, where I wonder if re-obtaining the Third Magic is truly worth all of this effort."

"So you doubt yourself," Ilo said flatly.

"But", Jubstacheit continued as though Ilo had said nothing. "I will never go back on my decision to make it the Einzbern Family's priority to obtain the Grail. The Third Magic was once ours, yet we failed to maintain its secrets within our grasp. It is thus our duty, to compensate for our ancestors' incompetence, to find it yet again."

Ilo removed the silver crown from her head, and gently layed it next to the wooden box on the alter. "And do you ever wonder, Father, if perhaps, its secrets were lost for a reason?" She turned her hollow, crimson eyes to the old man.

"There is no reason for such a thing to be lost, unless one considers a lack of capability a reason." He refused to meet her gaze.

Finding her stare useless, she looked back to the bronze-plated wooden shield. She quietly observed their warped reflections on the aged metal surface as the room was enveloped in silence.

Alas, Jubstacheit clapped his hands and rubbed them together, saying, "Well, we best not keep the divine cup waiting. Let this War begin!"

As soon as Diomedes lay his eyes on her, he could not help but feel his heart skip a beat. If Artemis ever were to have children, this woman would certainly have been her daughter. Her entire essence reminded him of the moon. Her stare seemed cool and distant, and in the blue night light illuminating the hall, her silver crown and hair gleamed as though it were she casting the light about.

It took him a moment to come to his senses, at which time he sealed the bond with his new Master with the question, "Are you my master?" He felt a bit odd, as though even he might not have permission to speak to such a heavenly being. Even in his many crossing of paths with Athena, an Olympian, did he feel this small.

She responded traditionally, and the back of her hand burned a bit, making her wince.

He stood, and responded as well, giving her the name of his Class.

Ilosveil pulled a small curtsey, and Jubstacheit bowed. "We are very thankful to have such a grand leader such as you to fight for us," he said.

"And it is my pleasure," said Lancer, "To be under the sevice of such apparently grand people.

**Okay, yeah. The end of Lancer's segment kinda sucked in my opinion (I had to force myself to write), but yeah. BERSERKER. IS. FRACKING. HITLER. WE'REALLGONNADIIIIIIIIEEE! **

**Did you know that there is this thing called a Review Box, and it's just below my story! It's there for a reason. You should use it :D**


	7. Doubters

**You doubters! You doubt my strange choice for Berserker! I have my reasons and excuses, good ones too! **

**Also, I own none of the characters coming from any anime, and very few of the concepts. If I did, they would be no where near as good as they are. Most of the concepts included in here required extensive research on Type-Moon Wiki…**

**Anyways, BACK TO MAHOU SHOUJO!**

Homura and Madoka (mostly Homura) had begged. And begged. And begged.

"That darn red-head ripped us off," Rin had mumbled to herself, ignoring the pleas of her daughter's Servant. "Since when were pre-teens eligible to be Servants?"

_Ripped off by a red-head? _wondered Homura to herself.

Sakura, too, seemed concerned. She turned to Rin. "I mean, they are all just little girls…I mean, what if they were out in public, and were attacked?"

Rin agreed. How were these Servants supposed to defend their Masters if they probably couldn't say no to the popular boy in school if he asked them out to a party?

Hana, rather confused, spoke up. "But, I thought the Grail would only bring us actual heroes."

Amaya finished the thought. "Yeah, so certainly these girls aren't just regular kids like us. They must've done something worthy of the Grail's recognition."

"Thank you," Homura said dryly. She was tired of these grown-ups speaking of things they were so blissfully ignorant of, and appreciated her Master's defense.

Rin, however, refused to be convinced. "The Grail's opinion of heroism isn't the same as ours. The grail accepts any soul that has achieved a feat as 'heroic'. These _feats_, however, could be horrible, hanus crimes worthy of thousands of death sentences."

"I remember reading about the Fourth Grail War," Sakura began. "That War's Caster Servant was horrendous…they say he brutally murdered countless children…" She trailed off, unable to put herself in the shoes of those broken parents.

Rin gaped angrily for a moment, along with the rest of the room. "S-Sakura!" She gasped.

"Sorry! I guess I just got cold feet for Hana and couldn't help but remember those stories."

"Yeah, but you don't tell them that," Rin mumbled. "And don't remind me of that stuff." She had to struggle to keep from shuddering at the memories of coming far too close for comfort to meeting the man herself.

"Anyways, for all we know, these school kids could've just rescued someone from a fire, or something relatively lame."

"That's enough!" Homura stood, unable to bear this stupidity any longer. "You judge far too quickly. What do you know of the things Madoka and I- especially Madoka- have been through, have _done_?"

Madoka looked at her, unsure that arguing with those even above their Masters was a good idea. "It's all right, Homura." She stood as well, and hugged her friend's arm. "They'll see eventually."

Homura took Madoka's hand, and held it close to her face, still unable to grasp that she was with her again.

Rin sighed. These girls seemed awfully confident in their own abilities. Nonetheless, they didn't look capable of anything. She turned to her sister. "Well, Sakura, do you think the kids should be partners?"

"They're all going for the same goal, aren't they?"

"Well then, I guess it's settled. You kids go play and stuff while we have a little chat okay?" Rin said this, all with a great amount of practice, with the prettiest smile possible that she could plaster on her face.

Feeling utterly dejected, and rightfully feeling misjudged by a long shot, Homura glared at Rin as she and Madoka followed Amaya and Hana out of the room and upstairs.

"What…the hell…was that?" Rin growled after having slammed her palms on the top of the table. "We legit just summoned a pair of freaking kids as Heroic Spirits. How the heck does that work!? I mean, they weren't any older than Amaya herself. Shirou's gonna have a fit if he finds out the kids won't be safe."

Sakura looked at her sister with those kind yet sad eyes of hers. "But you saw Archer when she was first summoned, Rin. There's no way these girls are just your average pair of teenagers. When I first saw her, I couldn't help but feel nothing but hope and joy at what might come, hope that maybe we could finally destroy the Grail."

Rin couldn't argue. The same feeling had taken over her when she saw Archer. Then another thought came to her. "You know what they almost looked like to me?"

"Hm? What did they look like?" said Sakura.

"They looked like Puella Magi."

A thinking light hit Sakura's face, as she realized this to be true. "Sure enough…"

Rin sighed again, and turned to lean her back against the table with her sister. "All that hope a few minutes ago better have not been for nothing…Professor Waver and I worked so hard to tear that accursed thing apart…and now those flipping Einzberns have just turned around and made another one that we have not the slightest clue how to terminate."

"We'll figure something out," said Sakura, cheering up her voice a bit to lighten the mood.

"Hell yeah we will. If I have to, I'll see to it that the entire Clocktower sees what's really happening and turns against what they're doing. Then the Einzberns'll have no choice but to shut this stupid war down."

"Can you believe that woman?" Homura growled quietly to Madoka as the four girls waited on the couch.

"Hey now, _that woman_ is my mother, so you best watch it there, Assassin," Amaya warned from the other end of the sofa.

"Come on, guys, don't argue. You just met each other this evening, and I don't want the Grail War to start off with a pair of Servants and Masters already hating each other," Hana put out. She really hated seeing people argue.

Madoka smiled, glad that her master was like herself in that manner.

Just then a knock came to the door. Knowing exactly who it was, Hana and Amaya jumped up and bolted to the door, ready to tackle the one on the other side.

Shirou nearly stumbled and fell as his daughter and niece practically pounced on him. "Careful, I've got groceries!" He cried through his laughter. As soon as the girls were done jumping up and down around him, he came inside.

Madoka and Homura stood, and upon seeing them, Shirou stopped and spouted a friendly "Hello," as Rin and Sakura came up the stairs. He was a tall man, with tan skin, his eyes a grey-ish brown, and though he only appeared to be in his late thirties, several streaks of light grey were already prominent in his mostly rusty colored, combed back hair.

It took Madoka a second to see just how much he looked like the Hero-Emiya, from a completely different life and timeline.

He set the groceries on the kitchen table while Rin came up and wrapped her arms around his neck, and they gave each other a brief kiss before separating.

"We've got alooot to talk about," Rin said quietly to him.

"Oh really?" He looked to Sakura, who nodded in agreement.

He sighed a bit, then said "Aaalrighty then. So, where are the Servants?"

Homura resisted the incredibly strong urge to face palm, an act that Rin and Amaya did not restrain. Madoka and Hana giggled at his blindness.

"I'm telling you, Homura, being invisible is the coolest thing in the world! You guys should try it sometime," Madoka gestured to the rest of the room.

_Holy cow, _Homura thought, though she could not help but burst into laughter. _She actually just made a sarcastic comment_. She was fairly sure Madoka had never done that around her before.

Shirou's eyes widened as he realized his blatant mistake. "Are you seriou- Oh, gosh I'm sorry!" He laughed at himself, and strode over to shake the girls' hands.

"It's alright," Madoka said, still chuckling.

"No, actually, it's not. That was incredibly rude of me- God, I didn't even introduce myself! I'm Emiya Shirou, pleased to meet you," He said to them with a smile. "I'm so terribly sorry, I just didn't expect…" He ran his eyes over the girls that looked more like a pair of school-age cosplayers.

"Well we didn't expect it either," Rin said from the kitchen.

Shirou shot a somewhat shocked look in that general direction that said _well gee, that wasn't just rude!_

"Anyways," He began. "Feel absolutely free to join us at the table. I'm sure you're hungry."

Homura and Madoka looked at each other, and gladly accepted Mr. Emiya's invitation.


	8. Geekout

**That awkward moment when you make the King of Heroes eat McDonald's. That's right. I went there. **

**I like flying, as long as I get a window seat, that is. Otherwise, I'll be bored out of my mind. **

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters and concepts from the anime. Remember that. **

Alex looked down out of the window of the plane. He observed how the late noon sun glinted off of lakes and rivers, making them look as though they were made of quicksilver. Twelve hours he had sat there, the only break being one for the lavatory. Rider was dematerialized for the entire trip, something Alex was beginning to envy. They would have to make a stop at Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport on the way from London, and another stop in California.

The audio speakers in the cabin made a soft _ding_ noise, and the captain spoke over the intercom, likely unaware that he was barely understandable, no thanks to the proximity of the mouthpiece to his face. "Passengers, please be sure to be in your seats and buckled up as we approach Atlanta. The weather is fair, seventy-four degrees, and clear skies for a smooth landing…" He continued on for a bit, his muffled and indistinct voice fading out as Alex pressed his face against the window, trying to see the horizon ahead. He spotted a grey, hazy smudge far away, a dull blimp in the greenery around it. That must be Atlanta…

"Finally," said Waver from the seat behind him. "We'll get to stretch our legs! This is the main thing I've always despised about traveling long distances. You barely get to move."

Alex chuckled. He didn't have to be told.

Emily practically flew into the McDonald's drive through. Their flight would be loading within the hour or so, and she didn't want to eat at the airport; the stuff there was usually overpriced, and it took long enough to get through security as it was.

"Alright, what do you want to eat?" She asked Saber, who she had actually dubbed "Gil". She felt like "Saber" was a name way too spiffy and identifiable for public use, and Gil was much simpler and conspicuous.

When she first asked him who his Heroic Spirit was, and he had responded "Gilgamesh", she nearly died laughing. She had read some about his legends in the tenth grade, but historical depictions had always had him looking like he might actually possibly be from Babylon. Apparently those depictions were incredibly inaccurate. There was no rectangular, curly beard or any of the classical Babylonian stuff. Nope. None at all. This dude was friggin' white, and blonde at that. Sure he looked just like he did in what she had read about the Fourth Grail War, but she still found it hilarious.

He thought for a second, like it actually took effort to decide what to order in a drive-through. "I'll have a glass of the best wine in the city, with smoked ham, some marinated lamb ribs, and-"

"Woa-ha-ho, there, stud! The hell sort of McDonald's you orderin' from?" She looked at him like he was a madman.

The look on his face of straight up confusion Emily found incredibly funny.

"Well what else am I supposed to eat?" He asked, obviously serious about the situation at hand.

"Uh, maybe a cheeseburger? A burrito?" She then grew thoughtful. "The McRibs are good…I'm gonna get me one o' those…" They were only one car behind the ordering screen, and the menu was in plain sight for Gil. "C'mon, man, tell me what you want!" She urged. "'Cause if you don't decide soon, I'm gonna pick for ya."

"Alright, alright," he huffed. "I'll get one of those." He pointed to a McDouble combo. "And make the side and drink a large…and add a dessert," he ordered.

She was actually having fun with the guy until he used that pricky tone of voice. There was always a polite way of saying things, without using "please" and "thank you", using your voice. This was apparently another concept that, like McDonald's, this man had never heard of before, because every imperative sentence he said was like a command from a spoiled six year old.

They finally got up to the second window and received their food. Gil stared at the bags for a moment. "The hell? Since when did food for a King come wrapped in paper?"

Again, she stared at him. She put her forehead against the steering wheel. "Wooooow… You're hopeless," each of her words were cracked with laughter. "Okay," she started, after suppressing her giggles with quick, deep breaths. "So you've been in the States before, right?"

"Yeah," he replied, knowing that she knew, finding the question pointless.

"But you've never eaten at McDonald's?"

"No." It was very simple. He didn't know what the big deal was.

After laughing some more, she sang out (as though it were to be a joke, but Gil was entirely clueless, due to his lack of time spent watching Disney movies), "You poor unfortunate soul! It's sad, but true!"

Gil only rolled his eyes as they pulled out back into Atlanta traffic, on their way to the airport.

Emily hauled her large carry-on into the overhead compartment, then plopped herself in her seat, which, of course considering her luck, was not a window seat. Gil was seated right behind her. She was already getting bored, but she would have to wait until after takeoff to get out her kindle and start watching Doctor Who for the millionth time.

Next to her was a guy, about her age, with dark hair that came down about to his chin and a single strand too stubborn to decide which side of his evenly parted hair it belonged to, reading a book about a mile thick. When she took a peek at its pages from the corner of her eye, she could see that it was written almost entirely in Japanese. She hoped it was a dictionary or something, so that she wouldn't feel utterly alone in the arena of learning a new language.

Waver had to do a double-take at the guy who sat himself next to him. Even when he had his hair down, the man was utterly unmistakable. In his black leather jacket, skinny jeans, and converse, he looked more like a rich-kid juvenile delinquent, but the thumb-sized golden earrings and bloodred, cat-like eyes gave him away. He hoped to God that he wouldn't turn to look at him, and recognize him as the boy from over thirty years ago.

He took out his notepad and started writing to Alex. Almost all of the letters, he wrote in Ancient Greek, though the words remained in English, seeing as how most of the characters were exchangeable. No one but Alex would hopefully understand if someone got nosey and decided to peek at the paper. The Ancient-Greek letter writing was a creative idea Alex had gotten when he was a boy. It had been almost like a game between them, but now it served a greater purpose.

_You're never going to believe who is sitting next to me._

He squeezed the notepad through the space between Alex's seat and the wall of the plane. His son took it, pausing from his book, read it, then wrote back:

_Is it Matt Smith? If so, can we trade seats?_

Waver snorted a laugh and responded:

_Hehe, no, but I'm wishing right about now that it was. It's Archer from the Fourth Grail War. I swear it's him. He was probably summoned as a Knight Class again, which means he has Magic Detection. He may be able to sense us, possibly even Rider's presence. So keep your head up and don't let your guard down. _

Alex stared at the note with a look of something to the nature of confused horror. Without trying to be too noticeable, he looked to the seat behind the one next to him. Sure enough, the guy looked exactly like how his dad had described him, save for the fact that his hair was not in its usual spiky format and he was not in over-sized armor made of Crayola-yellow gold. He tuned back to the note.

_OHMYGOD. Do you think he'll actually attack, though? I mean, we're on a jetliner. There are far too many witnesses, and there really isn't enough room for a fight on here…_

Waver thought for a second.

_True enough, I doubt even he'd risk it, but still. If he's here, then his master is too, and whoever can summon him up isn't some low-ranked Magus. _

That much was true. Alex would definitely have to keep an eye out.

The plane finally departed, one of Emily's favorite parts of flying. She always loved the speedy and powerful feeling of charging forward and high into the air. Up until now, it had always been one of the closest thing to adventure to her. Of course, that came after watching Doctor Who late at night, and playing D&D with her best friends until the early dawn hours.

But after she had started practicing Magery, she had grown apart from her companions. This had left her with a void after high school, a void she was unsure she could ever fill again. Seeing as how she was only a second-generation Magus, she was still closely linked to technology and the modern world, unlike the rest of the Magus community. She had absolutely no one to geek out with now.

She had found a small solace, however, in reading the accounts of the Fourth Grail War, recorded by Lord Waver Velvet El-Melloi Archibald, who had essentially become a role model for her.

Like her, he wasn't from a well-established bloodline of Magi, yet he was a master of honing talents and skills that were already there. And despite his background in magic, he was, in several ways, a geek. Not only that, but he traveled a lot, which was something she had always wanted to do. She had spent her life mostly stuck in the deep South, where everyone owned a shotgun, hunted deer, and was pretty much racist, though they refused to admit it. There were exceptions, but that was the true Southern stereotype.

It had taken her a ton and a half of courage to go to Snowfeild to obtain Gil's Relic, though it was a trip that she had relished. But now was the time for the _real_ adventure. She knew that this would most likely be the most pivotal moment of her life.

Driven bored out of her wits, Emily drew out her Kindle Fire from her other, smaller carry-on when the captain declared it was safe to use wi-fi. It was immediately to Netflix to re-watch "the Empty Child" two-parter. That one was one of her favorites, as long as she didn't watch it super late at night, all alone, with not a light on in the house. Doctor Who could definitely be terrifying at times.

_And the non-Whovians ask, "Why is the Doctor Who fandom so big?" Try it sometime, and you'll find out why, _she thought to herself.

Gilgamesh was getting tired of trying to figure out where the heck he'd seen this guy next to him before. He was definitely a Magus, he could tell, but he knew he had seen him before…Maybe he had been a lot younger, with shorter hair, though…Maybe if he could think of who he had seen him with…That was it! He'd seen him with Iskandar, that amazing king of a mutt. He was the kid that was his Master.

_Just to let you know, we're flying with the Master of Rider from the Fourth Grail War, _he told Emily through their mental link.

_Woa, say what-now? _She had been paying more attention to Rose and Captain Jack than Gil's telepathy.

Irritated that he had to repeat himself, he said, _Alexander the Great's Master is sitting next to me, nit-wit. You dogs need to learn to start listening to the King. You're also sitting next to another Magus, who I think is a Master, considering the fact that there appears to be a Servant looming about him. _

_What the heck- Are you serious!? _All she had heard was "Alexander the Great's Master is sitting next to me", and she nearly freaked.

_Nah, this is all a prank. I just want to see you get hyped up for nothing at all. _

She wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or not, but she decided to take a look to the seat next to Gil anyways. There sat a man, seemingly in his late forties to early fifties, with long black hair. He wore a long red coat with a golden shoulder sash over a black suit and undershirt.

Her jaw dropped. It was totally him. She had to hold back a gasp of excitement as she turned to sit forward again. "Wow…" she whispered to herself. "Holy friggin cow…Oh man… Oooh-ho-ho man…" This was the first time in a long time she had the urge to geek out. She turned again in her seat and looked at the man, who raised his sight from his book to her cautiously.

"I'm sorry, this is just killing me," she began. "But…You wouldn't happen to be Lord Waver Archibald, would you?" She felt like saying his whole name, but if she and Gil were wrong, and it was just an average Joe, then she would feel completely awkward.

The guy sitting next to her looked up from his book, too, surprise evident on his face.

Alex stared at the girl, then back to his father, waiting for a dodging response.

After taking a moment to look cautiously at Archer- or whatever class he had been summoned as this time- who had his chin propped up on his knuckles, and who, too, was waiting for his response, looking down at him with only one eye open, he said, "So what if I am?" he took on his average grumpy-professor ego, hoping to deter the girl's attention with a negative air.

That was not the dodging response Alex had been looking for.

Emily's eyes widened and a broad, fan girl-like grin broke out across her face. "Oh my god…Okay, so like, I've read your books-"

Gil sighed. "Oh boy, here we go. Now every other phrase is going to be 'Okay, so, like'-" He was cut off when she smacked him on the knee.

_Oh shitaki mushrooms, I hope he doesn't kill me now_, she thought after hitting him, but he only laughed at the moment.

"Whatever, anyways, so like I read them and absolutely loved them, and now, you're like my roll-model," She didn't mean to do it, though nobody ever does when they get excited, but her words were spilling out at about a mile per minute.

"Yeah, that's lovely," Waver said in a tone that made it obvious he wished to be left alone.

This wasn't lost on Emily. "I'm sorry, am I annoying you?" God, she hated being that kind of fan, but she kinda couldn't help it.

He didn't want to be as bluntly rude as possible, so instead of saying "Yes", he simply shrugged.

Gil snorted a laugh.

"What? What's funny?" Emily inquired.

"Just, you, when you get all hyped up your accent shows through really bad," he laughed.

"Shut up!" There again, the defining accent of the South found its way into her words, and Emily caught herself. "I can't help it!"

"That's why it's so funny," said Gil.

She smacked him on the knee again before saying, "Ya know what, just shut up and let me watch Doctor Who." She turned back around in her seat and stuck her earbuds back in.

"Hey now, hit me again aaaand she's not listening…What a waste of breath."

Alex looked up. "Wait what about Doctor Who?"

Emily pulled out her earbuds. "Huh? Oh, I'm watching it."

"Really? What episode?" He peeked over to the screen of her Kindle.

"The Empty Child two-parter," she responded. "So you watch Doctor Who, too?" Her voice was getting a little high and pinched the way it did when she got excited, but not to the level of losing all control over accent cover-up.

"Of course I do!" Alex responded.

Emily gestured for a fist bump, and nodded approvingly in his choice of TV shows.

"See, Gil, Doctor Who is awesome. You never know when you might meet a fellow Whovian." She had had this argument with him in the car earlier. She showed him the first episode (with the ninth Doctor, not the first) the night before they left for Atlanta, and the next day he said it was the stupidest thing on the planet.

Then something hit her like a ton of bricks. She had spotted a glint of red on Fellow Whovian's hand…And Gil had warned her of another Master…Not to mention the uncanny resemblance this guy held to Lord Waver...

Waver already knew this girl had to be Archer-er, "Gil's" Master. It was obvious by his mere presence and the fact that she seemed to be the only other one on the plane who knew who he was.

Emily turned back to Waver and Alex. "So, what are you guys doing out here? Got business with the U.S. Magus Association?"

Alex had immediately realized his mistake. _Shit! _he thought. _I should've used my other hand for the fist bump…_

Waver had to be cautious about this. "No, actually, the LCT operates independently from the U.S. faction."

"Oh, okay. That's what I figured, but I was just curious." Theory confirmed. They were going to Japan to, and not as tourists. Well crap. Now she was going to have to fight another geek, and not in a debate over time travel. This would suck.

**I love review boxes. You should to. They make everyone happy (^w^) and yes I am a whovian. I'm way behind on the show, but I am, indeed, a Whovian.**


	9. Promisses

Shirou leaned against the windowsill in the room that belonged to him and Rin, and sighed. "I didn't say anything in the living room earlier…I suppose because I didn't want to insult them-as if I hadn't already-" he chuckled a bit. "But Rin…This can't be right. For such young children to have the burden of being a Servant."

"And do not our kids bear the same burden, being Masters?" Rin asked him quietly.

"I know, it's just…it's not fair. God, I wish there were still a way to transfer Command Spells."

She made a _humph, _and said, "You're not the only one."

The very day they had noticed the Command Spells on their daughter's hand, they immediately had tried to transfer them to Shirou, but with no success. They had tried to do the same with Hana, also in vain. This new Grail was being incredibly difficult. The last thing Rin, Shirou, and Sakura wanted was for their children to be directly in harm's way, with opposing Masters and Servants alike attacking them God only knew when. Their only hope lay in two more children, who apparently were flipping Puella Magi. And Lord Waver had sent them a message, saying that Gilgamesh was back in the game.

Out of luck. From now on, they were going to have to be as careful as possible. "We'll have to keep Archer and Assassin dematerialized at all times. If the others get whiff that they're mere kids, they'll head straight for Amaya and Hana, seeing as how they'll be easy targets," Rin said in a very matter-of-fact tone.

"Well, also bear in mind that Rider will be on our side as well," Shirou reminded her. "If we ever need backup, I'll always be at the girls' sides, and we can call Waver's son and Rider for help." Lord Waver and his son, Alex, had agreed long before the summoning to help Rin and Shirou to destroy this new Grail. Word was spreading throughout the magus community that this "Grail War" was nothing glorious, but a futile and wasteful attempt to reach the Third Magic, and the Root. If it kept up for much longer, the Einzberns would have a big battle on their own hands.

None the less, if they didn't step up security soon, then Amaya and Hana would be in serious trouble. Their magic training wasn't that advanced (though still more advanced than Shirou's at their age), and they'd be sitting ducks if an opponent spotted them.

"Well at least the school should be safe," Rin pointed out.

Her husband nodded. Shirou had already seen to it that the girls be withdrawn from school indefinitely, as to prevent such attacks on the school like those that Shinji and Caster had done in the Fifth Grail War. Too many people would be in danger, and Shirou wouldn't allow it. No one else but one Master was even resident to the area of Fuyuki, who was well beyond school age, so the school being under threat shouldn't be a problem.

"Wait a second…How did you get the relics for Assassin and Archer?" Rin still hadn't told him about the details of that. He turned away from the window, and leaned his elbows on the sill, facing her, as she was leaning on the foot of their bed.

"Ah, right. Well, I was just complaining honestly to the girl who runs the church now-"

"Aw, Kotomine's daughter?"

"Yes, Caren-"

"She's creepy sometimes."

"Yes, but anyways-"

"Sorry."

Her shoulders slumped for a moment, and she gave him a slightly annoyed look as he simply looked at her, knowing that he was being a nuisance to her speech.

"Anyways, about not having a relic, and this girl, who I swear I've never seen before, but apparently she's with the church, came out of nowhere, and just gives me this red ribbon."

"And so you just took it without really questioning it?"

"Well, she kind of explained what it was and that we might get a good Servant with it, maybe even two."

He still stared at her like she were the idiot. "And you just took it for what she said!?"

"I was desperate!" he saw her face flush just before she gave him the cold shoulder, which, over the years, had essentially become his cue to come and embrace her from behind and burry his face in her thick, dark brown locks that tumbled over her shoulder.

Her tense posture relaxed as she felt his warm breath on her neck, and she sighed. "I really don't know what I've gotten us all into, Shirou…"

He let a quiet moment pass before saying, "Don't worry. We'll find our way out of it. We always did before, and we will now."

This was honestly one of the major reasons she loved this man. He never failed to be comforting, and yet he never really lied about these things. Even if you were feeling so horribly wrong, you simply couldn't see any good, he could always point something out to lift your spirits. She rotated around in his warm embrace, and lay her head and her hands flat on his chest.

Shirou rubbed her back, and looked back out the window at the rising moon. He didn't know how he was going to get his family out of this mess, but he would find away. He would have lied to Rin if he didn't, and there was no way he could let that happen.

He hadn't lied when he said he'd beat Shinji if he kept treating Sakura and Hana how he had been. He even gave him a fair warning.

Sakura and her daughter had come over for dinner one evening, several years ago, and it managed to hit Shirou that she was wearing a turtle neck, long sleeved shirt beneath her usual light jacket, yet the weather was humid and warm from late spring showers. Surely she must have been nearly suffocating. It wasn't until she was helping him with the dishes did she roll up her sleeves. Just beneath the rim of the sleeve, he noticed a rather painful looking bruise that seemed to go most of the way around her forearm.

He wasn't fond of bringing things up about Shinji to Sakura, but he had been noticing fishy things about their relationship for a long time. "Hey, how on Earth did that happen?" He tried to approach it in a roundabout tone of voice, as though he thought it might have been caused just by some accident or something to the nature of.

"Oh…I really don't know. I must have accidentally done it while asleep last night."

She was a terribly good liar. He never would have thought anything else of it, had he not already had suspicions of Shinji. The way Hana never went near him, and the way she would look at him or avoid his eye contact completely, it had made him wonder for a while. And there was no way someone could bruise themselves like that while sleeping.

He took a deep breath. "Sakura…"

She must have noticed his growing scowl, because she stopped scrubbing a pan and seemed to tense.

"It really is nothing-"

"No it's not, and please don't lie to me. And please, for God's sake, don't lie to Rin. And don't make Hana lie about it, either." His voice was terribly low. "If Shinji is doing something to hurt you two, or either of you, I need to know."

Sakura refused to meet his eyes. She continued to scrub the dishes, and he reluctantly did as well after a moment.

"I'm serious about it. And I promise I won't immediately start raising all hell about it, either. I'll just tell him he needs to stop."

She just kept scrubbing.

He kept his promise, of course. He said he wouldn't _immediately_ raise all hell. But seeing as how Shinji didn't heed his warning, all hell was raised not much later. After nearly beating Shinji to a pulp, he took the matter of Sakura's and Hana's involvement in the Matou family straight to the family head, Zouken (whom of which Shirou noted looked like a cross between an alien from American movies and a raisin). That was when he discovered just how horrific Sakura's early life had been, and that of Hana's. Rin nearly threw a conniption fit, and at that point, he was dead determined to get the both of them out of that house, and to have nothing to do with that disgusting family.

Another promise he had kept.


	10. Walk in the Park

It had been a while sense Amaya and Hana had been out of their houses, and so they had decided to meet at the park at around lunch time. Shirou would serve as Amaya's escort, and Sakura would go with Hana. Rin would have gone with Shirou, however, she had business to attend to with Lord Waver concerning deciphering the new Grail, and he had information on another Master.

It would seem as though this war was particularly slow to start off, even though from intelligence gathered from several different sources said that all of the Masters were already in Fuyuki at this point. More than half of them were foreigners, so Shirou wouldn't be surprised if they were all simply finding their bearings in the town and setting up barriers around their locations.

Nonetheless, he would keep an eye out for anyone potentially looking to pick a fight. He knew that Amaya's and Hana's Servants were Servants for a reason, but he honestly still didn't want such young girls fighting, and would take it upon himself at any point if necessary.

As he was walking with his daughter, he noticed that the two of them were being terribly quiet. That seemed to be the problem with young teenagers. They never really seemed to talk with their parents on much.

"Hey," he started. "Why don't you see if Assassin wants to come out with us from being dematerialized for so long?" He supposed it might drive anyone nuts to not do something for so long, after having been dead and all.

Amaya looked up, seemingly jolted back to reality. It was then that he realized that the reason she was so quiet was probably because of being lost in deep thought.

"Oh, yeah. I guess it would be a good idea."

"It _is_ a good idea." He winked at her, in that silly way he always did whenever they were playing.

Assassin didn't seem to have a problem with coming out, now that they had gotten her some public-appropriate clothes. If she had gone out in her original clothes, countless heads would have been turned at a cosplaying teenager, and a select few heads might be turned to a low-class Servant. An easy target.

When they reached the park, it would appear that Sakura and Hana had gotten a similar idea about inviting Archer to materialize and enjoy the day with them.

The trees were just beginning to loose their flowers, soon to be replaced with rich green foliage, so whenever the breeze blew by, a shower of pink and white petals came floating down, sprinkling themselves in everyone's hair.

Sakura had brought a wooden picnic basket and a large blanket to spread over the grass. In the basket were some sandwiches, drinks, and pocky. Just enough for everyone, and it occurred to Amaya that perhaps her aunt had counted ahead of time on Shirou to want the Servants to be with them.

It was obvious that the two Servants had been close to each other in life, as they sat side by side, quite literally leaning on one another.

"I forget," Sakura spoke to them after having been conversing with Shirou and the young Masters. "What were your names again?"

The two looked at each other. "Kaname Madoka," Madoka said with a small nod.

"And Akemi Homura," Homura stated.

"So what did you guys do to be Heroic Spirits?" Hana inquired.

"We were Puella Magi," Madoka said. She set down her can of Milkis, and Homura took another sip of her own before continuing the subject.

"It's really a rather long story," she started. "But to put it simply, our lives took place over two different universes, not to mention countless timelines."

The other four just stared at them. "Well how does that happen?"

"Again, long story," was Akemi-san's short reply.

_Well then, _Amaya thought. _Though I guess it doesn't matter right at the moment. _

Other small talk was made amongst the six of them, and by the time they were done with catching up (not that much had happened in the last few days), eating, and cleaning up, well over an hour had passed. Not that anyone there wanted it to end soon.

After packing up the blanket and throwing away their trash, they decided to all go for a leisurely walk down to the signature red bridge of Fuyuki City. They stopped at a couple of shops for miscellaneous items, and by the time they reached the bridge, evening was approaching. The day had been fair and enjoyable, and so it was time that they go on their separate ways for now. Rin had told them not to stay out past dark, and there was no going against the words of that woman in her household when it came to such things.

But just as they had begun to part, a strange wind came on from the streets, and Akemi-san suddenly went on edge. Kaname-san was soon to follow her lead.

"What is it?" Shirou asked them, their tension rubbing off on him.

"Wraiths." Instantly after Homura uttered the word, a huge, whitish figure, with half its face covered with scattered pixels, loomed over a nearby building.

Shirou held out his hands to his sides, and a pair of falchions shattered into existence in his palms, one white and one black.

But Kaname-san looked to him and shook her head, saying, "Thank you, but this is a job for Puella Magi." And with that, both her and Akemi-san's casual outfits burst away in small, glowing, glass-like shards, to be replaced with the cute and frilly dresses they were summoned in.

They leapt upward and toward the Wraith, rosewood bow and military arsenal drawn. Pink blazes of light streamed toward the white-robbed figure, and it moaned like a ghost in the wind. Before Homura could pull out an RPG, the beast of despair raised a glowing hand, and swung at the magical girls, who both dodged aside with seeming effortlessness. They continued to glide farther up the sides of the buildings, closer to the thing's face, buried in little squares and rectangles. The Wraith was swinging about violently, trying to swat the girls out of the air like flies. Along with this, randomized bursts of energy would form around the Wraith and then fire at a non-linear course at the two Puella Magi. They managed to dodge them, something Madoka did out of sheer knowledge of these things and their capabilities, Homura from sheer experience.

Alas, an RPG was drawn form Homura's stash of weaponry she kept nowhere, and the fight began to conclude with a bang as the creature was unable to fend off such a blow, but that was not quite the end of it.

"Madoka, now!" Homura shouted, and her friend complied. She was right on top of the building next to the wraith, and from this vantage point, the beast didn't stand much of a chance. A flashing rozen burst throbbed at the crest of Madoka's bow before a huge magneto flare fired into the Wraith.

And with that, they landed back on the ground in front of four people who looked flabbergasted, right after Homura picked up a small black cube that had fallen from the Wraith.

"So that's what Puella Magi do," Hana said aloud to herself.

"Apparently…" Amaya didn't think her mom had too much to worry about. That thing had been incredibly fast, and looked as though it would kill with a single swipe, had one landed, but these girls had wiped it out in a matter of less than a minute.

The Incubator tilted his head. "I don't know who these two are yet, but they sure are powerful," he said.

"You sure as heck ain't kidding!" The green-eyed girl was standing on the roof of a sky-scraper a good ways away with a pair of binoculars. "Boy they just knocked that sucker out…I mean, they're not entirely hard to beat one at a time, but still…" Her bouncy curls blew about in the wind, her usually mousy-ish hair turned almost ginger in the light of the sunset. "And you say you don't know who they are?"

"Not a clue," said the Incubator. "Though I could check in with the Japan unit's data base and find out."

"That'd be nice. You wouldn't mind, would you, ya little space cat?"

"Not at all," was his reply as he closed his eyes for a while, the circle on his back glowing a bit.

"I have the identity of one of the girls, but not the other's."

"Alright, well something is better than nothing," she said.

"Her name is Homura Akemi, from Mitakihara, and former student at the city's middle school."

"Former student? Girl still looks like she's freaking thirteen or something," said the green-garbed Puella Magi.

"Well, it appears she met her demise as a magical girl about a year ago, according to that region's overseer." the Incubator informed.

The teenager stared at the space cat like he was nuts. "Well you're records are off or something," she debated. "There is no freaking way that she's here if she's dead."

"Is that so?" The creature's vision seemed to train on the back of her right hand.

"Eh, bug off. I mean, Puella Magi as Heroic Spirits?" she chuckled. "If it were that simple, I wouldn't have to be putting up with the jack-ass I'm living with now."

"Hm. Though, just because it is unlikely, doesn't mean that it's impossible."

"True that…but still…" She squinted some more through her binoculars, watching the group of six split into groups of three, and go on their marry ways. "And no info on the kid in pink?"

"None acquired."

She sighed. "Well then…I guess this just might require a little more investigating, huh?"

"Perhaps, if you wish to. I too am interested in the circumstances. This Grail War you speak of sounds intriguing."

"It is until you get the most obnoxious Servant ever," she mumbled.


End file.
